The Blossoming
by Beryll
Summary: Harry is whisked away by a mysterious someone to The Safe House, where he is to stay for the rest of the Summer. How will he cope when he learns the person he is to stay with is his arch-enemy? Lime warning... Slash! This fic is under construction.


A/N: Okay, this is chapters 1 and 2 completed updated, beta'd to the best of their ability, and just plain old better. Draco has been made into a much greater asshole to keep him in character, Harry is slightly less hyper, and everything generally makes more sense. Enjoy!

Thanks to Paige, Caroline, Shannon, and Zaynah for betaing this. You guys did a great job!

Disclaimer- All plots, characters, situations, and settings are property of J. K. Rowling and all the little publishing company thingies.

Chapter 1- The Blossoming

Harry hummed quietly to himself as he bustled about his bedroom, careful to avoid bumping anything that would make any great amount of noise. Even through two closed doors and the separation of a long stretch of hallway, he could hear his Uncle Vernon snoring, and the snackle crack was a blessing to his ears. He gleefully dumped clothes into his suitcase, not bothering to fold them or organize them at all. Books were jumbled in with bottles of potions ingredients and robes, bits of parchment stuck out in odd places, and his photo album could be seen begging for help in one corner.

Harry was packing so quietly, quickly and badly because he was leaving that day, to spend the rest of summer vacation at Grimmauld Place. He had spent the past month agonizing over his Godfather's death, going back and forth from guiltily taking the blame to blaming it on everyone else. Finally, he had given up and shoved it to the back of his mind. Now, he was preparing for what he expected to be freedom.

As he bounced around, barely aware off anything but the fact that he was _free, _someone appeared in the doorway. "Potter," it whispered, and Harry, who too still busy bouncing around the room to hear, didn't respond. "_Potter," _it said again, this time a little louder, but Harry continued to hum and dance, completely oblivious to the shadowy figure at the entrance to his bedroom. "Dammit, Potter!" the person finally exclaimed, and Harry nearly leapt out of his skin.

"Eep!" he squealed elegantly. The person laughed.

"I'm you escort to… to the safe house," it said coldly, in a distinctly masculine voice. Harry nodded happily and returned to packing, cheerfully continuing the conversation as if they were discussing the weather.

"You can say Grimmauld Place, you know. It's not like anyone can find it from the name," Harry responded, stuffing his cloak into the already stuffed bag. The figure shuffled his feet.

"I could say Grimmauld Place… if that was where we were going," he said, still attempting to disguise his nervousness and turning away from the bubbly boy he was talking to. Harry nearly dropped Hedwig.

"What? Not going to Grimmauld Place? But I thought…" The figure nodded its head.

"I know. That old… I mean, Dumbledore told you at the end of the summer that you were going to Grimmauld Place after a month, but something's come up, and he can't let you." Harry pouted. Something always came up to ruin the best of things. His summer, the Triwizard Tournament, The Quidditch playoffs, his very existence. With an impatient sigh, he resumed packing.

"Fine. Where _are_ we going?" he asked grumpily. The figure sighed again.

"I can't tell you. I don't even know myself. All I know is that you and I are supposed to stay there together until the end of the summer, when Dumbledore will send for us." Harry sat down and rubbed his chin, gently fingering the tiny peach fuzz that grew there.

"Great. I get to spend the rest of the summer all cooped up in a tiny little who knows where, probably with nothing to do and barely anything to eat, and probably never go outside… and to top it all of, I'm stuck with… with… you." Harry turned to the shadowy figure and, for the first time, realized he didn't know who it was. He had vaguely recognized the voice, and so thought it must be someone he knew and trusted, and hadn't bothered to investigate further. "Who are you?"

He could almost sense the other person's smile, even though he couldn't see his face. "I'm not supposed to reveal my identity until we reach the safe house. Are you done packing?" Harry cast a careful eye around his bedroom.

"Yeah, I guess. How are we even supposed to be getting there?" With another invisible grin, the figure held out a small, smooth rock in one black gloved hand.

"Activation Stone. It's a new invention recently found by the Ministry. Works just like a port key, except you need to say the correct word to get it to move you." Harry groaned at the word port key, but he grabbed his things and reached out a finger towards the stone.

"I'm ready," he declared, and the person nodded. He removed his wand from inside his sleeve and pointed it at the little black rock in his fingers.

"Libre!" he cried, and in that instant everything disappeared with that oh so familiar, oh so unwelcome tug behind the navel.

With a thump, Harry landed on the hard ground of somewhere completely unfamiliar. His bags had ended up on his legs, and somehow he had landed on top of the person he was to stay with. With a start he leapt up and grabbed one of his bags as it fell to the floor. "Right. Sorry." The other person stood up and shook himself, and Harry noticed he was only an inch or so taller than himself.

"No problem," he said tersely, hauling the trunk up from the ground. Harry grinned.

"Thanks." Suddenly, he noticed a window and ran over to look out. Outside, expansive golden beaches filled his view, and beautiful aquamarine waves pounded on the shore. "Merlin's beard, would you look at that," he murmured. His escort came to stand beside him and marveled at the view.

"At least they let us stay somewhere worthwhile for the summer… that's a blessing," he said quietly. Harry nodded, still mesmerized by the apparition in front of him. Then he turned back to look at the other person in the room.

"You. Who are you?" he asked, and his tone was one to end all arguments. With an audible sigh, the escort reached up and removed the hood that obscured his face, probably with the help of some spell of other. Silvery blonde hair glinted in the light of the rising sun; soft gray eyes looked up from under blonde lashes.

"I'm Draco. Draco Malfoy."

Harry screamed and reached for his wand, but it had fallen out of his pocket when he landed after port keying. Rage contorted his face. "You tricked me! You're going to kill me!" he yelled, running over to the pile of belongings that cluttered the middle of the room. Malfoy shook his head fervently.

"No, Potter, you don't understand! I've converted; I'm on the side of the light! I've joined the Order of the Phoenix!" he yelled back. "Look, I'll even give you my wand." He reached in his sleeve again and removed the long piece of wood, holding it out to Harry, who took it.

"Explain, or I'm going to hex you," he growled, pointing his own wand directly at Draco's forehead. Malfoy closed his eyes.

"My parents were caught by Aurors three weeks ago. I was questioned and handed over to Dumbledore, who… who convinced me it was the right thing to do. I don't think I need to tell you anything else," he explained, his voice a mixture of masked fear and resignation. Harry grinned humorlessly and ground his wand harder into Malfoy's forehead.

"Why should I believe you? What have you ever done but create more chaos in my already screwed over life? How do I know this isn't some elaborate trick?" he half-screamed. When Malfoy looked at him, it was a look of pure exhaustion.

"I cannot make you believe me, Potter, but if I could, I would. However, it just so happens your beloved Dumbledore believes me."

Harry growled his suspicions. "Prove it," he snarled. Shaking slightly at the indignity of his position, Malfoy reached down and removed a piece of paper from his pocket, handing it to Harry. He perused it for a moment- it was a letter from Dumbledore.

_My Dear Harry,_

_It has come to my attention that young Mr. Malfoy wishes to join the Light. After I questioned him under several truth spells and potions and deemed him innocent and honest, I gave the matter some thought. I have come to this realization- Mr. Malfoy will be hunted down by as many Death Eaters as Voldemort can spare, and must be protected. So, I have sent him to the safe house, along with you._

_You must also be wondering why you have been subjected to being hidden away in the safe house. I have received news from our spies that Voldemort has become stronger due to some spells he either discovered or invented. He has come looking for you, and is now able to override the spells placed on your Aunt and Uncle's home. While they will be protected, we cannot guarantee the same safety for you and have moved you thusly to the safe house._

_I realize that the next few months will be most trying for you, and I hope you can undergo this ordeal. It is imperative to the future of the wizarding world that you survive to fight Voldemort. While I apologize for the discomfort this may cause you, I must say that it is most necessary._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Headmaster Albus Dumbledore_

Harry looked back up and frowned. "Sorry about your parents," he muttered, lowering his wand. Draco sighed and sat in one of the dark purple armchairs that populated the room.

"I'm not so sure it's such a great loss," he whispered hoarsely. Harry glanced sharply in his direction, but Malfoy's face was turned away in shame.

"What do you mean?" he asked. Malfoy grinned slightly, but there was no humor in it.

"My parents were Death Eaters, obviously. You think I lived like a pampered rich boy? I may look like it, but I have never been anywhere near as happy as you." With a glance at Harry's bemused face, he laughed shortly.

"I can see you don't understand. How could you? You've never seen a parent act like I have. You've never been tortured by your own parents." Malfoy stared at the Harry. "I'm not the person I used to be, the person you so aptly dubbed Malfoy. Then, all of me that existed was the mold of my parents. Now I am Draco, an individual, just like you."

Harry stood there for a moment, considering his nemesis's confession. A spasm of emotions crossed his face, going from disbelief, to anger, and settling on the face of a martyred hero. Then he reached out a hand to Malfoy. "Hello, Draco. I'm Harry." Draco's eyes lit up and he smiled widely, the only true smile Harry had ever seen on his lips. He seized Harry's hand, almost violently, and shook it. Harry smiled back.

"On thing though," Harry continued. Draco looked guarded and Harry shook his head. "Nothing like that. It's just, I've decided to act as if I've just met you, and forget everything from the past. That means you must as well. No name calling. You've never met Ron and Hermione. Alright?" Draco nodded solemnly.

A moment later, they were still there, sitting a little awkwardly in the aftermath of such an important moment. Harry cast around for something to say, and he finally realized he was in an entirely new place that he'd never been in before. "Let's explore!" he exclaimed.

The two of them, armed with wands and nervous smiles, began exploring the small house they were to live in. The room they had started in was sparsely furnished and mostly decorated in dark purple with silver accents, with a large painting of the Hogwarts founding four over the fireplace. There was a door to the left of the window, which Draco opened, revealing a long hallway of doors. Harry bounded over to the first one.

"Come on, I can't wait to see what this place is like!" he exclaimed, pushing it open. Inside was an expansive kitchen with food nearly tumbling out of the cupboard. Draco poked his head in interestedly.

"Hey, food! I'd like to try my hand at cooking," he declared. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Who would have thought? The famous Draco Malfoy, a cook. Come on, let's look at something else." He grabbed Draco's wrist and dragged him over to the next room.

It was a small bedroom with a single bed, a dresser, and a nightstand, and another door leading off it. The covers on the bed were dark blue, matching the dark blue carpet and light blue walls. Harry raced across the room and peaked into the door, which turned out to be a bathroom, also blue. Draco stuck a hand on his hip. "I'll take this one," he announced. Harry pouted.

"Fine. I bet the other one's better, anyway!" With a laugh, he darted off, back into the hallway, leaving Draco to shake his head.

"Kids these days," he muttered, following the excitable Harry. He pondered over how easily Harry had forgiven him, but chose to dismiss it as part of his hero's complex.

He found him in another bedroom, almost identical, but for the green decorations. "Still want the other room, Draco?" Harry asked upon Draco's entrance. Draco shook his head.

"Nah. Green looks better with your eyes," he replied. Harry shrugged and went to explore the rest of the house.

More exploring revealed a simple dining room with a table and two chairs, and a small deck with a few comfy chairs. Draco and Harry immediately took advantage of these chairs, pointing them so they faced over the ocean. "I could really get used to this," he sighed as he kicked his feet up onto a chair. Draco glanced at him sideways.

"Even with me here?" he asked. Harry's brow furrowed.

"I thought we already discussed this. We're starting over. New slate," he replied, and Draco frowned as well.

"I know, but I wonder if it's that easy. I really haven't been the most wonderful guy, if you know what I mean. I have a lot to make up for," he said. Harry nodded.

"I remember all that stuff that happened. Some bloke named Malfoy did it. I heard he started going to Durmstrang, though," he replied, looking over at the blonde seated next to him. Draco smiled widely.

"I heard he fell off a cliff there," he replied, and Harry laughed.

"I don't mind having you here at all. I really could get used to it," he said quietly, and Draco felt himself smiling.

That night, Harry and Draco each retired to their respective bedrooms, now fully equipped with all their unloaded luggage, including Draco's, which had magically appeared sometime during the afternoon. Harry snuggled up into his cozy green blankets that protected him from the chilly ocean breezes that appeared during the night. As he slept, he began to dream.

_He was sitting in a room all swathed in golden silk from top to bottom, and golden silk curtains hung everywhere. He could here someone walking towards him, and he could see their shadowy shape approaching through the curtains. One by one the stretches of fabric moved aside, swishing slightly as they did so. Finally, the last curtain swooshed aside, and Harry could feel a pulsing excitement low in his stomach. A certain blonde, fully in the nude, crept over to Harry, a secretive grin playing on his face. He reached out one elegant, boney hand and stroked his chin. "Harry," he whispered, and Harry could feel a shiver run down his spine. Draco leaned over and pressed his lips against Harry's, and suddenly he was floating on pink lilies…_

Harry woke with a sharp gasp. Had he really dreamed about kissing Malfoy? Breathing hard, he lay back on his bed and rubbed his temples. That was ridiculous. Harry Potter did not dream about boys. He did not dream about naked boys. He did not dream about Draco Malfoy! His breath continued to come incredibly quickly as he fought with a nervous break down.

_I do not like blokes! _He mentally berated himself. With an exasperated sigh, he took a deep breath and fell back on his pillows.

In the room just across from Harry's, Draco too was dreaming.

_He was walking along side a lake with a surface as clear as a crystal. He dipped one toe in and, almost instantaneously, a smooth head appeared out of the water. Harry grinned at him and beckoned with one hand, illuminated so eerily in the moonlight. "Come in with me," he whispered. "It's so nice in here." Draco gulped and began to strip until he was clad only in his boxers. With a shivering gasp he plunged into the water next to the smooth body of his one time nemesis. With a strange smile, Harry reached out and grabbed Draco's hands, guiding them towards his waste. He nearly yelped when his fingers met bare skin._

"_You're naked!" Draco stuttered, and Harry's grin grew._

"_Touch me, Draco. I need you to touch me," he whispered, and Draco shook. With a small laugh, Harry leaned over and kissed him full on the lips._

Draco woke up sweating and shaking, and he sat up in bed. _Not again…_he thought to himself.

The next morning was the definition of awkwardness as both boys kept as much distance as possible between them in the kitchen. Draco set a pot of water on the stove to boil, setting out the necessary items for making coffee. "So, Harry," he started, and the aforementioned nearly jumped out of his skin. Draco chuckled slightly. "How did you sleep?"

Harry blushed and coughed. "Uh, fine, thanks. You?" Draco rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

"Great!" he said, his voice falsely high and cheerful. "The beds are really comfy." Harry nodded.

"Yeah, comfy. Not as comfy as lilies, though," he muttered, and his eyes widened as he realized what he'd said. Draco glanced at him oddly.

"What was that?" he asked suspiciously. Harry turned the color so often associated with his good friend Ron.

"Uh, nothing. Just a dream I had," he muttered to the table. Draco sat and leaned over towards Harry.

"Go on." Harry turned red again.

"Oh, I don't really remember. There were just some lilies," he lied. Draco grinned wryly.

"Right," he said sarcastically, and returned to his task of making coffee. When it was finished, he handed Harry in a cup that was the same shade of green as his bedroom. "Apparently everything here is color coded," Draco laughed as he took out his own dark blue cup. Harry rolled his eyes.

"What do they think we are, five?" he asked, and Draco smiled again.

"Want to go drink these on the porch?" he asked. Harry smiled in return.

"Sure."

Draco and Harry sat out on the porch together, quietly sipping from their color coordinated mugs of coffee. "Fancy a swim, then?" Draco asked, and Harry tilted his head to the side, thinking.

"Alright. Hopefully these waters aren't shark infested…" he said, his brow furrowing.

"Sharks? Um, actually, I want to finish unpacking, so maybe the swimming can wait," Draco replied quickly. Harry laughed.

"It was a joke! I doubt Dumbledore would send us somewhere dangerous," Harry said thoughtfully. Draco nodded nervously.

"Right. Go put on your trunks," he replied, rising to go inside. Harry stopped.

"Trunks? I haven't got trunks." Draco stared at him.

"What do you expect to wear?" he asked, his voice rising a few octaves and cracking. Harry shrugged nonchalantly.

"I figured I'd wear a pair of boxers or something. Is that okay?" he questioned concernedly. Draco scowled.

"Yeah, it's fine, I just expected you to have trunks like a normal person."

"Well, I'm not a normal person, then, am I?" he replied snarkily. Draco glared at him.

"Just dress or whatever!" Harry nodded and began to strip as Draco disappeared inside the house. Unbeknownst to Harry, he stopped for a moment, still holding at the door, and stared at him, before shaking his head and going in.

A few minutes later, Draco emerged from the house, dressed only in a pair of black swim trunks. Harry tried not to watch as he walked over, instead choosing to look over at the ocean. He rubbed his shoulder with his other hand, avoiding looking at Draco, who stood a few inches away from him.

"Right then," he said shakily, clearing his throat. Draco's eyes narrowed and he perused the body of the other boy.

"Harry," he began slowly, "are you ticklish?" Harry looked shifty for a moment.

"No…" he lied, stepping backwards. Draco's eyes narrowed further.

"I don't believe you," he replied, sticking his fists on his hips. Harry gulped.

"Draco… what are you going to-" His voice was cut off when Draco leapt at him and began furiously tickling his sides, making him writhe with laughter. "Stop, Draco, stop!" he hollered between laughs, but his eyes encouraged Draco to go on. With a yelp Harry pulled himself out from under the bigger boy and began running down the beach, taunting him.

"You'll never catch me, you wanker!" he called, waving his arms as he went. Draco tore after him, shouting insults.

"Get back here, you miserable toad, or I'll have your guts for garters!" he yelled, using his best army general voice. Harry laughed and blew a raspberry.

"Not on your life, I won't!" he replied, his voice carrying on the soft sea breeze. Draco, however, was slightly faster than Harry, or perhaps Harry wasn't running his fastest, but he soon caught up to him and grabbed Harry by the waist, tackling him to the ground.

"I've got you now!" he declared, and he began tickling the writhing mass under him. Harry, however, reached up and tickled Draco back, and Draco couldn't stand the feathery light touches. He howled with laughter and leapt off his new sort of friend, choosing instead to plunge into the pounding waves of the nearby ocean. With a sigh, he submersed himself, followed quickly by Harry.

"It's cold!" Harry yelped, reappearing from under the water. Draco rolled his eyes and splashed him.

"Of course it's cold, you great sod, it's the ocean!" he said matter-of-factly. Harry splashed him back.

"Well, I've never been in the ocean before," he admitted embarrassedly, not quite looking at Draco. He stopped splashing long enough to stare at Harry.

"Never been in the ocean? Why in the hell not?" he asked. Harry shrugged.

"The Dursley's weren't ones for swimming very often, and when they did go anywhere they left me behind or made me stay in the hotel. The one time I actually saw the ocean it was stormy and dark and terrifying… that was the summer before I first came to Hogwarts," he explained. Draco nodded.

"My family used to spend a month every summer in France or whatever, swimming at all the fanciest places," he replied sadly. "It never crossed my mind that everyone else didn't do that, too." Harry giggled.

"You really are a pampered brat, aren't you?" he teased. Draco looked indignant.

"I am not a pampered brat!" he yelled. Harry laughed as the other boy's voice cracked yet again.

"Really? You weren't pampered?" he asked incredulously and sarcastically. Draco sneered.

"Fine. I was pampered. But I wasn't a brat!" he declared, making Harry laugh even harder.

"Draco, you just told me you thought everyone went to France for a month every summer, and you're telling me you're not a brat?" he asked. Draco sneered again.

"That doesn't make me a brat," he muttered mutinously. Harry splashed him, and Draco splashed him back, and before long they were having an all out water war.

Nearly an hour later, the two boys returned to the house, sopping wet and shivering, but happy. Draco, drunk on triumph in their recent battle, slung an arm around Harry's shoulder and began singing "We Three Kings" at the top of his voice. Harry glanced at him, bewildered. He had never seen Draco act so friendly.

"Where did you even learn that song?" he asked, and Draco shrugged.

"Some muggles used to come by every Christmas and sing it. Father once hexed them all and had to pay a huge fine to the ministry…" he reminisced. Harry laughed.

"You ought to know some good bar songs. I learned this one from Mundungus Fletcher." He launched into a rendition of the bawdy song so beloved by drunks and tavern goers, "I May Be a Tiny Chimney Sweep, But I've Got an Enormous Broom." The two boys sat on the porch to dry off and Harry taught Draco the first 26 verses of the song.

"That's all I know," he admitted, "but Mundungus once told me that are several hundred verses, because more are invented each time it's sung. Actually, he told me his life goal was to hunt down each verse and put it in a book so it can be the official words." Draco nodded.

"An admirable life goal, I'm sure," he cracked. Harry grinned.

"I'm sure it's the most admirable goal Mundungus has ever had, anyway," he cracked, earning an appreciate chuckle from Draco. With the air of someone with nothing better to do, Draco clapped his hands.

"Well, let's have some lunch, shall we?" Without waiting for an answer, he strode inside and into the kitchen, where he began pulling different items from the fridge and the surrounding cabinets. Harry followed and watched as Draco became a blur of activity, occasionally stopping to ask Harry what kind of meat he preferred, and then threatening him until he changed his mind.

When they whirlwind finally ceased, there were matching white plates on the table, two glasses filled to the top with orange juice, and two open sandwiches, with their names written in mayonnaise on the lettuce, and the roll beside it. Harry raised his eyebrows. "Afraid I'll forget my name as I eat my sandwich, then?" he asked incredulously. Draco stuck his tongue out as he slipped into the other seat.

"Of course not. I just wanted to make the sandwiches a little more personal," he explained haughtily. Harry shrugged.

"Well, I guess you don't get any more personal than this," he replied, plopping the top half of the roll on and taking a big bite. "Mm, delicious."

Draco scowled and delicately placed his roll top on, before carefully lifting it to his lips and taking an elegant, refined nibble. "If I do say so myself, it's rather good," he commented snootily. Harry laughed, spraying crumbs everywhere.

"And you say you're not a spoiled brat," he teased, and Draco glared.

"I am not a spoiled brat. Here, I'll prove it!" he declared, taking a gigantic bite of his sandwich and chewing it with his mouth open, making loud, pig-like chewing noises. Harry wrinkled his nose.

"Not being a brat doesn't mean you have to be disgusting!" he whined. Draco harrumphed.

"Being refined doesn't mean you're a brat, then!" he replied, taking another big bite of his sub.

"Fine, I give up! You're not a brat!" Harry yelled, cowering behind his sandwich as Draco continued to act as if he were a cow brought to the table to eat it's cud.

"Say it again," he ordered, allowing crumbs to drop from his mouth.

"You're not a brat, you're not a brat!" he squealed. Draco closed his mouth and swallowed.

"Damn straight, I'm not," he muttered.

The next few days were passed in much the same manner as the first two. They went swimming and read books together, practiced potions (Harry was rapidly improving under Draco's keen eye) and teased each other, and generally became good friends. Both were incredibly astounded by the change in their relationship, but neither of them ever mentioned the past. They became more comfortable with each other, and began establishing traditions together.

They had a planned out schedule that seemed to fit each of their needs: in the morning, Draco would make coffee and breakfast, and then they would go for a swim. Afterwards, Draco made lunch, and then they spent the afternoon learning or just having fun together. In the evenings, Draco taught Harry how to cook, and they made dinner together. Finally they would each stretch out on opposite ends of the couch and read until they decided it was time for bed.

In those days of freedom with each other, they made the house theirs, laying claim on it and completely personalizing it. They drew silly pictures of each other and posted them on the walls where the other was sure to see it and gasp with outrage, usually the beginning of a verbal fight that ended in raucous laughter. They moved the furniture around as they pleased even dragging two of the living room chairs into the kitchen so they could be comfortable while they ate.

One evening, after Harry had successfully made spaghetti and meatballs and called it "the one dish any man can make," they went to their usual place on the couch, this time with a fire lit to ward of the chilly ocean breezes that so often came during the night. Harry had grabbed a well worn copy of "Quidditch Through the Ages" to read through once again, and Draco was reading the muggle book "A Tale of Two Cities".

Although they had begun on their separate sides, each curled up in a ball, for the first time, they began to unwind. One of Harry's legs fully stretched out and began to tickle Draco's elbow. Draco reached out his feet and slid them under Harry's warm calves. Absentmindedly, he began to rub Harry's ankle, just sliding his finger up and down, very slowly. "Why on Earth are you reading a muggle book?" Harry asked lazily, deftly turning the page of his own book with his thumb. Draco shrugged.

"It's interesting. Father made me read it once so I could understand how foolhardy muggles are, but I liked it," he explained. "Do you read the same book every night?"

Harry smiled slightly. "I'm thinking of Quidditch as a possible career. I'm not good for much else, anyway, besides fighting the dark side and all that."

"Harry Potter, famous seeker for the Chudley Cannons?" he laughed. Harry blushed.

"That's Ron's team. I'd go with whatever team asked me." Draco nodded.

"I once thought I wanted to play Quidditch professionally. Now, I'm thinking about being an Auror," he replied. Harry grinned lopsidedly.

"Professor Moody once told me I'd make a good Auror. Guess that wasn't worth much, though, since he was…you know. A supporter," he murmured.

"I read that article, last year, about what happened. You were really brave, you know," Draco whispered. He was surprised to see the lines around Harry's mouth deepen into a frown.

"I was so afraid though," he breathed. Draco shook his head.

"My Father once told me that bravery is doing something even though you're afraid. It was the one thing he ever said to me that made any sense." Harry shook his head, too.

"If I was really brave, I could have… I could have saved him. Both of them," he whispered, and a haunted look appeared in his eyes. Draco felt something entirely new and strange to him; it was pity.

"There was nothing you could do. You tried so hard to do the right thing, and you gave more than anyone else could ever hope to. What you did was amazing, was brave, and nothing can change that," Draco said forcefully. There were tears streaming down Harry's face now.

"Everyone I love dies. They always get hurt. My parents are dead. Sirius is dead. Even my living friends… Hagrid wouldn't come out of his cabin for a week because Rita Skeeter interviewed him, and it was because of me! Because he knew me! And Ron… Ron is always in the shadows, always second best, because of me. Everything goes wrong because of me!" Harry was shouting, and his voice filled the whole house.

"No, listen! Not because of you. None of it is your fault. It's all The Dark Lord's fault, understand? You never did anything wrong!" Draco yelled desperately. Harry, who had leapt up from the couch in the middle of his rant, collapsed now, back into Draco's arms.

"It's all my fault," he sobbed. Draco shook his head and shushed him.

"It's never your fault, Harry," he whispered, allowing the smaller boy to cry angrily into his shoulder. "Just relax."

Harry fell asleep there, his head cushioned on Draco's shoulder. Summoning up all his strength, Draco lifted Harry up and carried him to his green bedroom, gently laying him on the mattress and pulling the covers up to his chin. "Sleep well, Harry," he whispered, turning out the light.

A/N: Oh yes! You know it has fluff! You know I furthered the plot (a little..)! YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO REVIEW.

Draco- Damn straight! Review!

Harry- Yeah! Review, or I'll never let Draco touch me again!

Draco- Hey, that's not fair.

Harry- Yeah. But it's funny.

Draco- Yeah. But it's still not fair!

Harry- Well, then, you'll just have to hope they review then, won't you? Muahahaha!

Once again, sorry for all the mistakes! I'll go back through tomorrow and repost this… I just really want to get this up. That's how much I 3 my readers!

Peace and Love-


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